Last Victory

I was standing on that hill and looked into dawn. Another night was over, another day had begun. The fog was slowly lifting and soon I would be able to see the positions of the enemies. I loved to look at the peaceful country before the the huzzle and buzzle began.

On the left and right, there were our trenches, long and well build lines of defense. In the middle, the heart and the abutement, the hill. We called it fondly our ‘fort’. We had a battery here and a company of snipers. The ‘fort’ controlled the forefront. We could send our greetings to John Brown, whenever he was foolish enough to approach our lines.

Yes, our line was strongly fortified and the Yanks would need something special to get us. Until now, they had not dared to assault us. All they had sent us were cannon balls. Shell-holes covered the forefront. They did not do much damage; our trenches were too deep. I resolved to order the boys to dig even deeper.

On the other side of the ‘fort’ there was our camp; we lived in caves dug into the ground. The glorious soldiers of the pride Confed Army lived like rats. Oh no, not like rats. Rats had better life these days. They became fat and more numerous each day. No, we were worms, earthworms.

From the camp side there was a signal, a wake up call. Canvases at the entries of the caves were removed and slowly, one after the other, our soldiers stepped outdoor. The first one started to caugh, then another one joined and in the end, there were several hundred men caughing. This happened every morning. I did not know why, but each morning caughing filled the camp.

There was no breakfirst and so the groups gathered and marched to their trench. I saw my men glimbing up the hill. Soon they filled the trench. I counted them when they passed by: Butcher, O’Hara, Watts, Caligari, Davis, Kramer, Malinowski, Peterson, Schneider. None of them was missing; all of them had survived last night.

Billy Butcher was the youngest. He was just 15, but he was an experienced veteran. When he had joined the army two years ago, he had been the drummer boy of the company. Well, we did not have drummers anymore. Now he carried a gun.

Patrick O’Hara used to be a boxer at the fairgrouds of New Orleans; heavy weights.

Jonny Watts and Lee Caligari came with the reinforcements. I did not know them very well and was not sure how they would act in combat. Actually, they were a bid too old to be soldiers; but they are still able to carry a gun and to pull a trigger.

James Davis had a temperature. He should have been at a hospital. However, he did not want to go. Soldiers are dying at the hospital even faster than they do in the trench. Two nights ago, Davis had a fever attack. He cried aloud and saw enemies everywhere. The whole division was set alarm. Since then he exempted from night guards.

Joseph Kramer did caugh all the times. He caught the cough at Cold Harbor.

Peter Peterson was silent. I did not remember when he had spoken the last time.

Ralph Schneider had been our best shooter. However, he had to wear glasses. Well, they got broken and now he could only see things that were as big as a tree. That did not matter; the Yanks came always in big formations.

All of the men suffered from diarrhea. I always wondered how we could still crap after two weeks without a real meal.

They passed me by without a word, without a look. That was my platoon. Although they did not look like soldiers anymore, they were the best platoon in the damned Confed. Army.

I looked at the position of the Yanks. The distance was 150 m. If Robert E. would order to attack them, we would hardly be able to pass that distance. Not after all these endless fighing, marching, digging and dying. We did not have a break for weeks. However, Robert E. would not order an attack. I had listened when he talked to our division’s commander. “The Yanks will not defeat the South as long as Richmond stands. As long as Petersburg stands, Richmond will not fall. As long as the ‘fort’ stands, Petersburg will not fall. So as long as the ‘fort’ stands, the North will not win this war.”

Well, Robert E. Lee relied on us and he could. Although we knew, we were a beaten army we would not give up. The Yanks would never be able to cross the front. We might be ill, weakened and hungry, but we were desperate, too, and we would not give up.

I had been in this army for a long time. Therefore, I knew that we could not win this war. The Yanks were just too numerous and had better weapons that we had. Each week we lost another town, another battle, another army. Maybe that did not matter. As long as we stood here, Abe would not win. We were still able to fight. Didn’t we teach them a lesson at Cold Harbor? Someone had told me that the Blue soldiers refused to do any assault since then. Maybe we could scare them so much that they went home and left our beautiful South.

“Hey Sarge! How long will we have to stay here in this puddle?”
I turned around and looked at Jonny Watts: “We will stay here as long as Grant wants to come into town.”
“Sarge, do we have a chance? They say that Grant has 300,000 men out there?”
“300,000? The whole North has not that many!” Well, in fact I was not so sure about that.
“If Grant had 300,000, he would have taken Richmond already.”
Watts was always making trouble.
“We shot thousands at Cold Harbor. We could have shot more if they had not run like turkeys. Ten times more, fifty times more!” Patrick O’Hara was a blatherskite. However, sometimes he was useful to raise moral.
“Sarge, do you have any information about what is going on in the south? You know my wife and my little boy is down there have a farm and a family near Georgia. I should be home to protect them.” Kramer vocalized what most of the men thought.
“If you stay here, you help them more. Imagine what happanens if we let Grant and his big army move south.” I did not have a good feeling when I said that. It probably was a lie. However, these men trusted me and the lie would ease them.
“What about food. How can we fight the Yankees if we do not have anything to eat?”
“Don’t be foolish, Lee! If you get a shot in the stomach, you will be glad if nothing is in it. The bullet will go straight through. Do you remember Richard? It was at Gettis. We had eaten that fine Yankee cow and then they hit him in the paunch. It was a huge hole and all the food run out of his bowel.”
“Shut up, Jimmy! Lee is right! We need something to eat. I will try to get some food. In the meantime, you can take your blades and get the mud out of the trench. Afterwards you should dig a little deeper.”
“C’mon, Sarge, we are no earthworms.”
“You are! When the Yanks come, you will be glad to be under the earth. Billy, you come with me! I’ll be back in an hour!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxHope you do not mind that I participate at your story. Just wanted to see how I would write!